Path of Thorns
by Lorial
Summary: A night elf druid discovers something that he had never seen before. A creature of flesh like him, but pale, small, and vulnerable. The path he now faces it to either help the poor being or walk away.
1. Discovery

The land was tainted red and scarred. Time and the events that occurred upon this land had not been kind to both the foliage and the fauna that lived in the area, which were hostile towards any that approached them, and some were even tainted by the flows of whatever magic remained within the air.

A young night elf who was mounted atop a large snowy frostsaber, slowly led the feline further into the lands and amongst the ruins. The cat's ears were flattened and she was cautiously prowling along the land with the crisp and dead grass crunching beneath her large padded paws.

Unlike his feline companion, the elf held onto his composure. His darkened face had a grim line of determination on it as the two of them passed by a set of broken marble pillars which was once a line of columns before a great building.

Golden eyes gazed over the pillars, and for a moment, the elf saw movement among them. No humanoid was making the motions though, but instead the wispy and fluid motions belonged to angered spirits and ghosts. The hand of a banshee outstretched towards the elf and his mount before it lamented in agony towards them.

The feline instinctively flinched and let a low growl form at the back of her throat before the elf gently patted the mount upon her head with a hand of his. "Calm down, Ralnea. She cries for a reason."

Ralnea snorted before lurking onwards towards their destination. The further they made their way onto the corrupted lands, the worse the scene became. More ruined marble structures, more wailing ghosts, and the occassional satyr encampment was passed until the frostsaber was able to reach a large clearing and the elf tugged on her reins.

He dismounted from the large feline before heaving an exasperated sigh, as though to steady himself for the task ahead. A large bag was then unfastened from the side of the sadle and placed upon the scarred earth.

Ears still flattened and hackles still raised, Ralnea watched herself and her owner vigilantly, only to be frightened by a passing gust of wind that ran along her white and black fur, which caused her to jump and hiss at nothing that was before her.

"Alright, I won't keep you." The elf said towards her as he watched the feline. Before proceeding further with removing the contents of his bag, the night elf busied himself with removing the reins from the cat. "Be very careful, Ralnea. I wouldn't trust these lands even if they were to ever be purified."

The second the leather straps were removed from her shoulders, the frostsaber let out a sound in appreciation before she loped off in one direction, where the ocean was, leaving her owner on his own to his work.

Watching his mount take off, the elf sighed. "I had to get stuck with this task, didn't I?" The bag was unravelled and a few strange instruments were placed upon the scorched grass.

The elf didn't like being here. He felt that there was no right to come to a land of the dead, a land that his own people cursed thousands of years ago through their own greed and lust. Azshara. Named after the most vain and vile queen that could have ever existed. Even thousands of years after the sundering of the well of eternity, the land still did not heal itself here. The magical energies which were once so richly found within this land, now strayed and filled the air, cocooning it with magical properties which helped to curse the fauna of the lands.

But even as the land was not able to heal after thousands of years after the sundering, nor were the night elves able to heal. They had moved on and banished the Highborne for their treacherous acts after they gave in to the seduction of the magic - and brough hell onto Kalimdor. Teaching in the druidic arts by Malfurion Stormrage took over as well, arts that this particular elf was still learning and adapting to. Even after all of that had come to pass, his people still shrouded their world within a layer of secrecy to this day.

There were times where the elf wondered if those Highborne, which were cast out on specially crafted ships, ever found a homeland. Or did they simply fall into the Maelstrom that they helped to create? Was the other section of land which split off of Kalimdor with the well's implosion found? Were those Highborne still alive?

"Concentrate ..." The elf muttered lowly to himself as he closed his eyes and balled his fists in an attempt to regain the composure that he had before the questions came. A moment passed before his eyes re-opened and his hands relaxed. The male night elf then began to set up his instruments and proceed with his work.

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There was a howl. This one didn't belong to any ghost or banshee, nor of the wildlife that lived in the corrupted lands, but from Ralnea herself. The elf snapped his head up in the direction of the howl and saw the large saber rushing towards him. Her howls told him that she was anything but happy.

"Ralnea, what is it?" The elf questioned her. The feline found the leather reins of hers upon the grass by her owner's feet. She lifted them up with her large teeth and pushed them towards her owner, indicating for him to strap on and mount up.

If there was one thing that the druid learned through his studies, it was to always follow the animals, especially if they were distressed. The leather straps and saddle were replaced on the saber before the elf mounted atop of Ralnea and grasped the reins within a firm grip. "Show me." The feline yowled as she then took off towards the ocean with her owner to show him what was so distressing...

When they had reached the shore, more ruins laid scattered amongst the water, this of an actual city though. But that was not what was bothering the saber so much. The closer they got to the disturbance, the slower her pace became until it was nothing more than a prowl.

The elf's eyes narrowed as he tried to see what was wrong, but to him, everything about the area rang off in his mind as being immediately wrong. As he gazed ahead of himself, he then saw a figure appear in the distance. It was a figure that was small, sprawled across the wet sand, and did not move. The closer the saber and her mount got to the figure, the more that the elf was able to make out what it was. Slowly it came more and more into focus until...

"By Elune!" Tiradis gasped as he jumped off of Ralnea's back and rushed towards the figure, which turned out to be a small and lifeless body. It's hair was covered in branches of seaweed and it's clothing was still damp, so it had not been here for too long.

Ralnea approached the body after her owner had reached it and in a gentle motion that showed concern for the being in question, she lightly nudged the side of the body with the tip of her nose until she was able to turn the body onto it's back.

There was another gasp as the elf's golden eyes looked between the body's and that of his saber's. "We should not be here."

The feline's eyes narrowed at her owner and she snorted gruffly in objection.

"Ralnea. I - I can get in trouble for even helping this ... this thing!" The elf was stunned at the sight before him. At first he thought it was a nightelven child, but the body's skin was light and pale. The hair was of a light mox of blonde and red. Yet, the features were long and elven in descent, which included the ears, which were smaller than the druid's, but were still large and upright.

Again the feline snorted and this time she showed her objection by laying down before the small body and refused to move from it.

The elf grasped ahold of the saber's reins and tugged on them. "Ralnea, this is no joke. Do you want me to get into trouble for this? We are in isolation, I can be inprisoned for finding and helping an outsider."

Ralnea growled as her owner tugged at the leather reins, but she did not move or even shift her large weight from where she laid on the wet sand beside the body.

Finally, the elf stopped and let go of the reins. He cast his eyes downwards towards the sand below his feet for a moment as his mind wandered and his heart raced. The elf had seen what happened to those that attempted to break the night elf law, which only became stricter with the years coming after the sundering and exile of the Highborne. He had seen his friends firsthand be thrown into prisons deep below the earth for even speaking of demons and wanting to practice magics which were able to bend fire and ice to their will. What feared the druid more than anything was that he himself would end up inprisonned for mentioning something wrong, or treading across the wrong people.

Yet, his druidic duties also tell him to aide those in need, especially if there is no Priestess of Elune around to help. So, the druid opened his eyes and gazed down at his frostsaber, who was now licking at the face of the small pale being, trying to stir any reaction from it, but only getting nothing in return.

With hesitation in his step, the druid approached both the saber and the body and then knelt before the pale figure while uttering words that only the druids knew. They were words that spoke directly to the earth and Elune at once and asked for their help and guidance. He asked the forces to aide him in healing this being if she was worthy, and then he lightly pressed a hand against her forehead while placing the other at her stomach.

There was nothing, and despite himself, the elf felt sadness tug at his heart. He removed his hands and looked towards the saber, "I tried. I do not think that I can help her. I do not have the power to."

Before the elf was able to stand away from the figure though, there was a wheezing sound which was following by coughing. Water suddenly sputtered out of the pale female's mouth and she winced in pain, yet her eyes remained closed, and she barely made an attempt to move out of weakness.

Jumping to their feet, both the elf and his mount Ralnea watched the figure go through all of the motions. A small smirk appeared on the druid's face as relief overcame him. "Alright, Ralnea, I'll help it, whatver it is, because you wanted me to."

There was no objection there. The saber was quiet, but her bright green eyes were large and looked thankful. Her owner then scooped up the small figure within his arms before he mounted the saber once more and grasped the reins with a few empty fingers of his. "Take us home, Ralnea, and hurry. Do your best to keep us unnoticed."

A roar echoed from the saber. She turned on her heels and then loped back towards the mainland to where their home was


	2. Offerings

The darkness slowly faded from her sight and things started to come into focus. The young, pale figure took in her immediate surroundings, curiosity etched upon her face. It appeared that she was in a bedroom, one made of – wood? Most of the furniture, even the walls, consisted of the raw material, save for the area rug, which appeared to be an animal skin of some sort.

She gazed down at herself and saw that the blanket appeared to be homemade as well; rough woolen patches were stuffed with feathers and patched together in a dull coloring. And the girl, she was laying within a strange bed. Wind filtered through an open window, which sounded some wind chimes, and caused her to jump at the sound. Where the hell was she? How did she get here?

Before she was even able to sit up, there was a noise on the other side of the bedroom door, one of footsteps and humming. The girl gripped at the edges of the crude blanket as her eyes were fixed upon that wooden door. Her heart raced and her breath caught in her throat as she listened to the sounds get louder, as though approaching the door with a purpose.

Eventually, the sounds of the footsteps stopped, but the humming did not. She was able to tell that whoever was on the other side of that door was waiting for something, and it was very close, if not right at the other side of the bedroom.

The door opened slowly, creaking against the hinges. Fear overwhelmed the girl and she closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. Maybe it wouldn't bother her if it thought she was resting still?

A dark face, illuminated by golden eyes peeked into the bedroom. "Still sleeping," came out in a deep masculine voice. The night elf druid stepped into the bedroom, a wooden bowl of some sort of soup within his hand. He made his way to her bedside and gazed down at the girl. She was so strange, elven, but not. The curiosity of it all continued to pique his interest. How did she end up on the shore of Azshara? Where did she come from?

Eventually, he moved away and placed the bowl atop a nearby wooden table before he made his way to a crudely fashioned dresser, looking for something, a certain fabric or article of clothing – he wasn't too sure what it was.

The girl, thinking the coast was clear, slowly opened her eyes and gazed around the room. One side of it was clear, yet the other – there stood a tall and dark figure. He must have been no taller than six feet. Light blue hair, the color of the sky on a clear day, was fastened in a tight and high ponytail, yet still came down to his shoulders, and his ears were long, longer than hers.

The night elf turned, and the rest of his features appeared clearly. There was a bearded goatee, and his eyes were golden and bright.

"Kal'dorei!" She gasped, instinctively taking to gripping at the edge of the blanket again.

The elf blinked his eyes and lowered his elongated brow. At least she knew what he was, but what about her? He gazed down at her curiously. "Yes, I am… What abo-"

There was a sudden loss for words as he continued to look at her, and her eyes were noted. They were strangely colored, bright with a mixture of pink and blue energy. The longer he stared at those hues, the more lost he became within them. There was a depth to them, one that he had never seen with any others before – almost as though the colors were coalescing in a swirling sort.

Finally, the elf pulled himself to look away from her eyes. "What about you? What are you?"

Unfortunately, he was speaking in a Darnassian tongue, and aside from a few words – such as Kal'Dorei. Everything that he had just said came out as a jumbled mass of sounds that she could not understand. The girl arched an eyebrow curiously as she looked up at him, yet there was still an underlying fear within her.

He tried again. This time, the elf pointed to his chest and stated in a clear manner, "Kal'dorei. Tiradis." He then pointed towards her, indicating for her to speak next.

She hesitated. He was one of the people that cast her ancestors out, dismissed them as garbage, and sent them off on the sea, not caring if her people died or not. How did he not kill her on sight?

Her family told her stories that were brought down from one generation to another. Stories of the Well, the demons, the outcasting, and the painful addiction that gripped in their blood. Even now, she was starting to feel her grip loosen on her control – she would need to meditate soon.

"You are?" Tiradis asked in his native tongue, snapping the girl out of her reverie.

In a small and meek sounding voice, she uttered from behind the protection of the blanket. "Quel'dorei… Tircassia…"

"Quel'dorei?" High elf, Tiradis had never heard of one before. There were other elves out there in the world? It would explain her elven appearance. She was so young though and must have been no older than ten years of age. To his people, much longer since they were immortal, having elongated life spans and growth spurts, "How did you get here?"

Again, she blinked at him, clearly not understanding what he had just asked.

"Nevermind," Tiradis offered with a smile. He glanced down, down at the small fabric of clothing within his hands. "It isn't much, but it's better than what you're wearing now. " Her dress was tattered and torn in some areas and was considerably damp from the ocean water a few hours earlier. The night elf placed the set of linen shirt and pants on the bed near her feet.

"There's food and drink downstairs if you want."

Tircassia peeked up at the other being questioningly. Seeing the look upon her face, Tiradis repeated himself, making gestures with his hands this time to help her understand what he was talking about, and the child nodded quietly.

The druid gazed upon his guest for a moment longer, curiosity still visible upon his features, before he decided to leave her be, closing the door behind him to offer her privacy.

The small high elf watched that door as it closed, bright blue and pink eyes gazing cautiously at it until she heard silence and Tiradis' footfalls slowly fade out from her range of hearing.

She then glanced over to the new set of clothes he had offered her. She was still alive, but was it a trap? Where was her family? The questions continued to rise within the girl as she stared off at the cloth items on the bed before her. It caused her grip to tighten along the edge of that blanket for a moment…

… Eventually though, she relented and cast her fears aside, reaching out to take the offered garments and put them on. Whatever was going to happen now, the young high elf was in the hands of a complete stranger, a night elf.


End file.
